


Though I Am Death, You Are Life

by Lionheart_Rising



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, F/M, Hades! Bellamy, Persephone! Clarke, non-graphic mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionheart_Rising/pseuds/Lionheart_Rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is the god of the underworld, and he would have her as his queen. After all, darkness calls to darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though I Am Death, You Are Life

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot idea that wouldn't go away until I wrote it.

He is the god of the underworld, and his name is Hades. Truthfully, he would rather be called Bellamy, but no one but his sister Hestia (who calls herself Octavia) will do that. He sits on his dark throne and he ensures the passage of souls and their containment in the underworld; the underworld that bears his true name. (Apparently he is both a place and a god.) Occasionally Octavia will visit, calling him big brother and bringing news from the above world, from Olympus, but the goddess of the hearth cannot survive long underground; no matter whether she wishes to or not.

 

[Truthfully he’s bored and more than a little lonely.]

 

It is during the winter solstice – the only time he is permitted to join the others, the only time he is not an exile with more power and a larger kingdom than any of them – that he first views her. She is Persephone, the goddess of springtime, and she stands at her mother’s side with more solemnity than he would have expected from someone who presides over something like the spring. She is life, but he is the god of the dead, the god of the underworld, and he can recognize darkness when he sees it. She just doesn’t allow it to overcome her; perhaps that is what draws her to him. (The darkness calls to him, shows him that she has killed before; a mortal youth who would not have lived anyway. She just sped his passing along. He also sees that she would kill again, if she thought it necessary.)

His little sister is not at the council, despite her status as an elder god; she gave up her seat for Dionysus, who calls himself Jasper (and encourages all others to as well) but Bellamy will see her when it finishes. Bellamy grows bored with it, and switches to watching Persephone; he finds her endlessly fascinating. Her hair is golden and silken and falls past her shoulders, and she has a calm, even gaze. Every so often she will say something to Demeter, and the goddess of the harvest will smile at her before voicing an opinion. Bellamy doesn’t have to work hard to figure out just whose opinion is being spoken. He starts calling her princess in his mind.

Persephone watches him as well, but in the way that one catalogs a threat; watchful, patient, and somewhat passive. He makes sure to flash her a smirk when he catches her watching too long and she stiffens, turning her attention back to the proceedings. 

When the meeting ends, Bellamy leaves the others to go find Octavia and they speak joyfully; she has not been to see him in some time, and he has missed her. Their reunion is interrupted by Athena (who calls herself Raven) and Persephone. Raven gives him a cursory nod, and he returns it; they have known each other long enough that more than that would be pointless and less would be needlessly rude. Princess does not react, other than to hold her head higher and he smirks again. Ordinarily he might linger, but there is something about the goddess of springtime that gets under his skin and he’s not sure whether prolonging the exposure is the best idea. So he bids Octavia farewell and urges her to visit when possible. She hugs him and privately whispers ‘Farewell, Bellamy’ in his ear.

 

[He likes the princess’ fire; Persephone is strong, for a young goddess.]

 

After that, he keeps an eye on his princess. (He’s not sure when she became ‘his’.) He tells himself it is because of the darkness he senses within her, and to an extent it is, but it is also because of the way she’s gotten under his skin, even if they haven’t said a word to each other.

When Octavia visits again, she brings tidings of the above world, telling him of Hermes the Spacewalker called Finn, who has pulled another prank on his fellows. Bellamy listens because Octavia is so eager to share and he loves when she’s happy. She also talks of Jasper’s latest debauchery and Hephaestus’ (called Monty) reluctant amusement. Towards the end she casually mentions Persephone, and Bellamy knows he’s done for when he shows more attention than he ought. Octavia laughs and tells him she knew he cared about the younger goddess. She refuses to say any more, dropping a kiss to his cheek before leaving his realm.

 

[He knows he’s royally screwed when he dreams of her the first time, waking up in a cold sweat. He just had to pick the goddess of springtime. Springtime! Could there be anyone worse suited to a life in the underworld?]

 

He tries to focus on his realm, on containing the souls and ensuring that they do not suffer. (Unless they’re in the fields of punishment, that is. Then he actively enjoys their suffering; he facilitates it.) His lieutenant, Murphy, senses the change in him and mocks him for it, but Bellamy silences him with a week of torture. Bellamy is in charge here, and Murphy will learn his place. After that there is no more mockery, though Murphy looks on in resentment.

He looks in on his princess after that; he watches her amusement and frustration with Finn, her friendship with Octavia and Raven, and with Jasper and Monty. Once he sends her flowers, smirking at her confusion when they sprout at her feet with black and white. Perhaps she is more naïve than he would have thought, because she picks them and even goes so far as to tuck one behind her ear. (He doesn’t tell anyone that he likes seeing his mark on her.) Her mother is momentarily frightened when she spots the blossoms but is placated when Persephone says that she picked them. Of course Demeter would never suspect Hades to do anything like that. He’s never done anything like it before.

 

[Even so, those damn flowers haunt him for months afterward, when he can’t stop picturing them against her skin until he’s hard and aching. She is a goddess of springtime; she should not look so good in black.]

 

They speak for the first time at the next winter solstice. He suggests something, and she actually has the gall to contradict him where no one else but his siblings do. (And even then they do it rarely.) He is an elder god; he survived his father’s stomach and he rules over a realm so vast there is little it does not encompass. How is it that the goddess of springtime dares challenge him? He actually ends up arguing with her, even shouts at her at one point. Demeter does not take that kindly, but Persephone is the one to hold her mother back, calmly making her statement with steel in her eyes. (It would be wrong to admit how much arguing with her arouses him.) He finally concedes her point, shocking all at the council; it is very rare that the god of the underworld will back down from a fight. He calls her ‘princess’ and he sees the way her features tighten at the nickname.

When the council dismisses, Octavia knows about what happened before he can even try to defend himself, and she fixes him with a look that is equal parts amused and exasperated. She warns him that he’s treading a dangerous path, and he can’t help but ask her when he ever wanted to play it safe. (For the goddess of the hearth, she’s surprisingly heavy handed when she smacks the back of his head.)

 

[His obsession (because he might as well be honest with himself if with no one else and call it like it is) with his princess reaches a peak when he actually looks next to his throne, alone on the dais, and wishes that she were seated beside him.]

 

All in all, kidnapping Persephone is probably one of the worst (best) ideas he’s ever had. He wants a queen. Needs a queen, even. Octavia has told him time and again that he needs someone to temper his mercurial moods. And he knows that that someone has to be his princess. No other will do. It doesn’t matter that she is the goddess of springtime; he needs her. (The god of the underworld should not need anyone.)

He’s not exactly subtle in his abduction either. He breaks forth from the ground in the field she is in, quickly ensnaring her and dragging her with him. She fights him, even goes so far as to try and break his nose, and while it angers him, it also makes his blood sing. (Who knew he so badly wanted to be challenged? This does not bode well for him.)

The goddess of springtime is dragged to the underworld and the above world falls to famine at Demeter’s anger. Everyone is angry. (Except for Bellamy, of course. He has Persephone: why should he be angry?) She stares him down and demands that he release her. Bellamy just sits on his throne, looking at her with a dark glint in her eyes. She stands out starkly from his throne room, with her light clothing and bright hair. Still, there is something so very right about her presence; that darkness he sensed in her ties her to the room.

“Why won’t you let me go!?” she finally demands after hours of yelling at him.

“Because you belong here as surely as I do,” he answers her, and as he does he is struck by the simple truth of it. She is not as easily persuaded as that, however, and launches into another tirade. He should be insulted, but all he can feel is amusement.

He cuts her off, informing her that she must be exhausted with a wry grin, and he escorts her to the rooms he set aside for her. She flinches when he brushes a kiss along her knuckles. (She’ll never admit to anyone that at the same time, her heart had beaten just a little bit faster.)

 

[If he thought his dreams were bad while she was still in the above world, they’re nothing compared to the ones he has while she is so close to him and yet so far. (He’d never hurt her though; he won’t. He can’t.)]

 

They fall into a sort of routine. She still doesn’t like him (and he really doesn’t blame her) but she does tolerate him. Even grows to respect him a little. He puts her in charge of the fields the dead plow and sow, and watches from a distance at the way they bow to her. Not only because she is a goddess, but because of who she herself is and what she means to them. He gives her free reign of the garden he never had much use for, and it flourishes under her hand. (Of course it does; what wouldn’t?)

They take their meals together and though she tries to remain aloof, that fails when he starts bringing up things she disagrees with, if only to see her cheeks flush. She is no meek girl, and he loves how she delights in arguing with him. He is courting her in his own way and he doesn’t think she knows that she actually has all the power in their little game; the only thing he has is preventing her from leaving. (That’s all he has.)

 

[The day she laughs for the first time and smiles when he calls her princess is when Bellamy really knows he made the right choice.]

 

Unfortunately their little game reaches a speed bump. Finn comes as an envoy and informs Bellamy that if he doesn’t let Persephone return to the above world, to her mother, his land will soon be filled beyond capacity, for Demeter will let all the mortals die. His princess looks concerned (of course she does) and she turns to him for his opinion. That’s different. Finn looks at them with a combination of amusement and disquiet on his face, and he leaves when Bellamy dismisses him.

“Please, Bellamy, let me return to the surface. I can’t let them all die.”

He doesn’t want to. (She used his preferred name.) He really doesn’t want to. At all. He can’t stand to be rejected by her, not when he wants her – needs her – as badly as he does. So he bares it all.

“You could have everything here.” He is frank, and more open than he has ever been with anyone. “You could be queen; you could rule. An entire realm at your fingertips. All you have to do is be mine.”

 

[Will she say yes? Does she even want to?]

 

Persephone looks stricken, and is that longing he detects in her eyes? Oh yes, darkness calls to darkness, and hers knows exactly what it wants.

“Bellamy, I can’t just sit and let them die. I just can’t.”

Bellamy is angry, and frustrated, and he wants. He doesn’t want to let her go; he wants her by his side and in his bed from now until always. He wants to know what she calls herself, her private name to be used among friends. He runs a hand through his dark hair.

“And maybe I don’t have to,” his princess says slowly, as though an idea has just occurred to her. She holds out her hand to him. “Will you accompany me?”

Intrigued, Bellamy comes down from his dark throne, allowing her to thread their fingers together. He is not sure where she’s leading him or for what purpose, but he’s about to find out. She pulls him into her rooms, shutting and locking the door behind her. She lets go of his hand and goes to the window. There is a pomegranate tree growing right outside and she plucks one, breaking it open. She picks out six seeds and suddenly he sees what she’s doing. A slow smile spreads across his features and she smirks at him, placing the six on her tongue.

In a decisive movement, she crosses the room and kisses him. She tastes of pomegranate and fresh water, and she smells of honeysuckle and she is his now. He fits her body to his, holding her pressed flush against him. The soft sounds of pleasure she makes are intoxicating and she threads her fingers through his hair, urging him on.

They declare their marriage with soft moans and sweat slicked skin. The underworld has a queen now, and he claims her as his. She whispers a word – Clarke – in his ear, smiling when he looks at her, slightly shocked. She says it again, and that’s when he knows that she belongs to him, as surely as he belongs to her. (She called him Bellamy, and if he wasn’t already done for, he certainly was then.)

 

[Having her in reality is so much better than in his dreams, and he would do anything she asks, if only to have her again.]

 

Afterwards they lie entangled in the sheets and he traces patterns on the soft skin of her ribs. Her golden hair is spread out on the sheets and she fits into his side perfectly.

“I’ll return,” Clarke promises him, her voice soft. “As soon as I can, I’ll be back.” 

Bellamy nods, knowing that this is the only way he can really have her. It’s not enough – forever would not be enough – but it will have to do. 

“I understand, Princess.” And he does. He just doesn’t like it. He does like the way she lights up when he calls her that.

She rolls so she’s straddling him, golden hair falling in a curtain around them, and begins peppering kisses along his jaw, neck, and chest. He may not like the situation, but he is certainly enjoying this aspect of it. She lets him have her again and when she cries out his name he falls even more in love. When she says ‘I love you’, it is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard

 

[Before she leaves she kisses him once more, and it is filled with a longing he also feels deep within. While she’s gone, he sometimes eats a pomegranate, if only to try and capture some of what she tastes like.]

 

Predictably, Demeter isn’t pleased with the arrangement, but what can you do when the god of the underworld tricks you? (Bellamy told Clarke to use him as an excuse if she wanted; to preserve her reputation as a do-good. Apparently he’s the only one who sees her darkness and embraces it.) Everyone thinks that he tricked her, other than Octavia. (No one realizes that their beloved goddess of springtime has the god of the underworld tightly wrapped around her finger. He won’t admit to it either.)

When Octavia visits, she is equal parts reprimanding and proud. She tells him that everyone has a newfound respect (fear) for the goddess of springtime, who went down to the underworld a prisoner and reemerged its queen. Bellamy is pleased; his princess – queen – deserves it. Octavia looks at him sardonically and gives him a bracelet that he knows instantly belongs to Clarke. Soon. She’ll be back soon. What are six months to a god?

 

[Every day he sends her the black and white flowers he first sent her and she brushes her fingers and lips along them before tucking one behind her ear. He smiles to see that.]

 

Clarke barely has time to speak when she returns before he’s kissing her like a mortal starving for air. She brings with her the scent and the taste of the above world and it intoxicates him. She moans – Bellamy, I’ve missed you – and he holds her tighter. In her absence he ordered a throne made for her, placed next to his, but there will be time for that later. For now, he exults in her and proceeds to show her just how much he missed her.

The underworld rejoices, for its queen has returned.

Clarke rejoices, because she is home.

Bellamy rejoices, because he has his princess in his arms again.


End file.
